High as a Kite
by effulgentcolors
Summary: Fluff for our bruised souls - basically Emma Swan coddling her man and getting quite the reward.


A life in the system helped Emma make quite the list of things she absolutely could not stand. 'Bullies' being very near the top and 'family meals' somewhere lower down, with 'any sort of present exchanges at school or work' lingering in between.

Then she got transferred to a new high school. Met one Killian Jones and lo and behold a new something made the #1 on 'things Emma Swan absolutely cannot stand' list. Namely, seeing Killian Jones in pain.

Starting from that time he dislocated his shoulder during gym class and going all the way to that other time Liam broke a string on his guitar, with all his dentist appointments coming somewhere in between.

8 years later she still has yet to develop any sort of tolerance for seeing her boyfriend in pain (her _fiancé,_ if he'd just get off his ass and use that thing she found two months ago and ugh, she was talking to Liam on the phone last week and came _this_ close to asking for his blessing and stealing his brother's thunder).

Which is why probably, possibly, perhaps, (definitely) she is to blame for Killian's current state.

He said it hurt. The doctor said he could take a couple of pills if he really needed them. Emma really hated that way he clenched his fist and ground his teeth.

"Swan, we should bake rainbow cupcakes! And mail some to Liam."

So, yes, _that_ was most definitely her fault.

"Killian, we are not baking anything, keep your butt on the couch," she sighed, stirring her vegetable risotto (she really hoped one of these days the 'we're adults and have to stop living on take out' moods that overtook her whenever Killian was sick will stick around even after he got better). "And do I really need to remind you what happened the last time you and your brother had the genius idea to send each other food across the ocean?"

Killian pulled a grimace that his drugged up self could hold for all of 10 seconds before he was pouting at her like the actual four-year-old that he was.

"But I really want cupcakes."

"I'm not giving you sugar. You're already high as a kite."

Emma frowned at the lack of immediate reply and poked her head around the kitchen counter.

Uh oh. He had on his excited, 'that's a brilliant idea, Swan' face that he got whenever she either had a _terrible_ idea, was totally wasted or he had simply chosen to completely misunderstand her meaning.

"That's a brilliant idea, love!"

There we go.

"We should go fly kites in the park!"

If pressed to say how long she stood there gaping at him, Emma would simply say - less than she should have.

"It's 8pm! It's the dead of winter! And you have a broken leg, you idiot!"

He actually had the nerve to look insulted.

"I did quite well in school. As you well know, Swan."

And with that, and a look that said he thought she had just called him the meanest name in the book, he turned his back on her. And stayed silent for over a minute after which Emma realized he was, in fact, for real.

It was her damn fault and next time she was leaving the idiot to suffer in manly silence instead of giving him the pain meds he needed.

"Killian," Emma signed in frustration, throwing a quick glance at her risotto to make sure she wasn't going to burn down their apartment while dealing with her ridiculously offended, 24-year-old man's tantrum, before joining him on the couch.

He stared resolutely at the TV that was playing reruns of MasterChef.

Oh, boy.

"Could you at least look at me, if I'm to apologize for my 'grave offense'," alright, maybe her sarcastic tone and barely restrained laughter weren't the best approach.

A supposition that was confirmed when Killian finally turned to face her, his eyes just on this side of getting misty.

Oh, fuck.

"Do you really think I'm stupid, Emma?"

Buggering fuck, as Killian himself would say.

"Oh God," Emma shuffled closer, grabbing Killian's face in both hands and thanking her lucky stars that he didn't pull away. "Baby, come on. I've never thought that. You know, for those first three months in high school, when I kinda hated your ass, it was mostly because I was mad that you had better grades in English lit. Hell, I asked you to tutor me before my finals! That wasn't because of your dashingly good looks, much as I've always appreciated those as well."

Emma smirked at her boyfriend, stroking her thumbs over his cheeks and lifting a teasing eyebrow to help him along in switching moods again.

"You hated me in high school?"

His pout was in no way teasing and in every way heartbroken and oh God, did she mention her 'things Emma Swan cannot stand' list?!

"Killian, please, please, snap out of it," she whined shamelessly, squeezing his cheeks perhaps a bit too tight. "I'm sorry I drugged you up. You know I have a thing or two against your stoic habits."

He furrowed his brows and looked down at where his hand had settled on her waist, clearly contemplating whether he should remove it or not and making Emma scream on the inside.

He was such a ridiculously happy drunk, what even was this?!

"And, no, I didn't. I loved you in high school. And I love you now. And always. Okay?"

"Okay," he shrugged, as if he was taking her word for it but wasn't all that convinced himself.

"Look, I'll make you cupcakes. All the colours of the fucking rainbow! And we can send them all the way to Ireland and then… we'll figure something out for the dynamite that Liam is bound to mail back. Just…" Emma slipped her thumb down his cheek, settling it over the corner of his mouth and pulling up insistently.

Killian just furrowed his brows in contemplation.

"No, Liam doesn't really like cupcakes. Says they are too bloody American," Killian sighed and looked for all the world as if all hope was lost now that their plan to get his brother diabetes had apparently failed. "And we can't flow a kite because we don't own one, love."

Well, she couldn't exactly argue with that but-

"Could we at least get married?" he asked, letting out another resigned sigh right after. "No, that won't work either because you spilled wine on your only white dress when we were at Ruby's party, remember? I told you we should get you a new one but then you dragged me into that lingerie shop and I can't really recall how that ended-"

It had ended very, very well for both of them but that was hardly the important part here.

"Killian, did you just…"

He looked up, as clueless and glassy-eyed as when he had asked her an hour ago, if he could use lightsabers for crutches. And she would think he was joking but… well, she _had_ seen the ring. Two months ago. She had been incredibly patient for two fucking months and the bastard was proposing while high on pain meds.

God help her, she adored this man.

"Do you really want to get married?" she asked, trying for reasonable and serious and quickly descending into giddy territory.

"Well, yes, of course, my love, but you don't have a white dress and I'm afraid Liam might be a tad pissed off, if we don't at least offer to wait for him to fly back. And Ruby-"

Was it mean to cut off your fiancé mid-babble? She thought not, considering the methods she was applying. And if his moan and the way he dragged his teeth over her lower lip were any indication, he didn't think so either.

"How about we make some chocolate chip cupcakes after dinner, just for us, and settle on getting married in a few months, hmmm? How does that sound?" she asked lightly between little nips to his jaw, confidently making her way toward his weak spot.

"That's a bri- Ah!"

Right there, she grinned smugly, sucking a nice purple mark on his neck, right beneath his right ear.

"A brilliant idea, Swan," gasped Killian, sounding a tad disoriented.

"I know, I'm full of those it would seem."

Yup, this was all her fault.

"Oh, and, babe? Don't you dare not remember this tomorrow!"

And she didn't regret it even a little bit.

(The next morning, he pretended not to remember just to mess with her. All the way until she warned him that the cupcake she was holding she could either trade to him, to use for a grand, romantic gesture or she could use it herself to steal his thunder.

"Swan, tell me you didn't bake it with the bloody diamond inside!")


End file.
